Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
"Marzia," Vitto speaks up. "What are you doing here? Go back to your parents."
"Don't tell me what to do. What are you doing to that boy?" Our eyes meet and at that moment, magic happens. She is pure innocence and I'm darkness personified, blood dripping down my white shirt. I can see the instant infatuation she feels when she looks at me. She's interested in me, more than Vitto. I smirk.
"He disrespected me," Vitto smirks. "So I'm showing him what happens to dogs who don't know their place."
"Did you make him bleed?" The girl, Marzia, crosses her arms and glares at the older boy. And for some reason, overly confident, brutal Vitto, who must be twice her age, looks sheepish. It makes me laugh out loud.
"Thanks, bambina," I smirk. "But I can take care of myself."
I walk away from the alleyway, wiping my blood on the shirt. Papa will kill me, but that doesn't matter now. What matters is that Vitto got one-upped by a little girl. Fucking hilarious.
As I round the corner, I hear the soft pitter-patter of footsteps behind me. "Wait up!"
I turn over my shoulder. The rays of the dying sun illuminate the little girl. She's beautiful, like a porcelain doll.
"Go back to your boyfriend," I hiss, turning around. But she reaches me fast, dropping a hand on my shoulder. I turn around again, ready to tell her to get lost. I don't like the effect she has on me. The way I feel when our eyes lock. The feeling of being seen completely, as if she has a magnifying glass of some sort and can see right through me.
"He's not my boyfriend." She reaches up, her fingertips making contact with my face. She avoids the bloodied area, but her hand slips on a drop of it, and she quickly retrieves it. It hurts to admit I miss her touch already. "He broke your nose."
"It's nothing," I mutter.
"Does it hurt?"
I shrug. "I've had worse. Once, I fell from a tree and broke a leg. The bone snapped and broke right through my skin."
"Gross." She's smiling as she says it. "Are you Adrian Bernardi?"
"Yes. Why?"
"My papa is talking to yours right now." She motions to an office building by the docks. "They told me to come here and play."
"By yourself? But you're a girl."
She smiles mischievously. "I have a bodyguard. But I ran off."
"Sneaky. Clever girl."
She beams at my words proudly. Something uncoils in my stomach. It's between hate and love, the need to hurt her and the fierce desire to protect the girl at all costs. I don't understand it, but I don't hate it, either. It makes me feel something I've never felt before. Something that confuses me.
"I should go," I mutter, walking past here and toward the office building where papa will be waiting. "Nice meeting you, bambina."
"My name is Marzia," she calls out after me. I don't respond, part of me hoping she'll ask me to stay longer. My wish comes true a moment later as she runs behind me again, grabbing my palm. "Can't you wait a few minutes with me? I'm sure your papa is still busy."
"Fine, I guess," I mutter. Together, we sit down on the edge of the docks, our feet dangling above the dirty seawater. I worry she'll get in trouble for getting her pretty clothes dirty, but she doesn't seem concerned at all. I like that about her. She's a little rebel, and I respect that.
"I like you," she tells me matter-of-factly. "I like you much more than Vitto."
"That's... good," I manage with a laugh. "That boy is a cazzo. I hate him."
She nods in understanding. Hesitatingly, her fingers find their way to my hand and she covers it with her tiny palm. "Why did you argue with him, though? You knew all those boys would gang up on you."
"I can't help it," I get out. Her hand is warm and distracting. "Papa says I'm almost as brave as I am stupid."
She laughs out at that. "That's funny. I'm glad I showed up so you didn't get beaten up."
"I could take them."
"Five of them?" she shakes her head. "They're bigger and older than you. I don't think so."
This annoys me, so I snatch my hand away from hers, giving her a dirty look. She seems hurt by this, looking like a wounded puppy, and I groan out loud.
"I think you owe me one," she goes on next.
"Huh?"
"Well, I saved you today." She grins. "That means next time, you have to save me."
"Save you? From what?"
"I don't know," she mutters, avoiding my gaze. "Just save me. Wanna make a promise?"
I don't know what takes over me then, but I find myself nodding, eager to stay in debt to this sweet little bambina who seems wise beyond her young age. "Okay."